


Still a Castellan.

by pastelchalks



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan is Luke Castellan reincarnated, Adam has ADHD, Adam has Dyslexia, Adam loves his mum and his mum only, Comfort, Demigod Adam, He doesn't remember being Luke, He will remember, Help, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of, Until he does remember, english is my third language, not yet, verbally abusive john winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelchalks/pseuds/pastelchalks
Summary: When Luke Castellan reincarnates, something goes wrong. Of course, nothing goes right for him.Lukes has been given the exact same body as last time. He doesn't remember being Luke, although he does get inklings that hint to it.Eventually, he figures it out, and uses his Demigod status to his own advantage.





	1. Chapter 1

Luke chooses reincarnation. Something goes wrong in the process, he’s still got the same body. If any authority of the underworld notice this - they don’t do anything. After all, it’s only a liability if he remembers anything, which he doesn’t, so the rest could be just chalked up to a coincidence.

 

The new identity in him - Adam Milligan - doesn’t know it yet, but he feels much too comfortable in this body. It doesn’t feel… right. His body doesn’t feel comfortable. He tells his mother, who says that it’s probably just growing pains, he’s going to go through puberty soon anyway, he’s only eleven though. 

 

There’s also the fact that during school… there’s not enough to focus on. Trying to do assigned tasks from his teachers is as mind numbing as painting a huge canvas purely black while using the smallest paintbrush. It’s not that he can’t focus… it’s that he needs _more_. It’s not enough to just copy lines to practise his hand writing, he doubts it’ll ever improve from this chicken scratch anyway. 

 

His teachers are so fed up with trying to teach him, that during english class they send him to the ‘special’ class, it’s insulting really, you were only meant to join that class if a doctor recommended it. Since no medical professional had said anything about Adam needing to be in a class more thorough with introducing the children to the content they’d learn in the class that the other ‘normal’ kids were in, was like an insult to his intelligence. 

 

It’s not his fault that the letters and words seemed to decide to turn upside-down and rotate every-time he laid his eyes on the page. It’s almost as if he wasn’t supposed to know english, and that another language would be far better suited for him. 

 

The other children noticed pretty quickly, and did _not_ stay quiet about what they thought. 

 

His twelfth birthday has come and gone, and after many complaints from teachers about his grades and behaviour, his mother manages to scrape up enough money to take him to a professional medical clinic. They say nothing’s wrong, not physically anyway, so they refer him to a child psychiatrist. 

 

His mother doesn’t say anything, but winces when she glimpses at the prices of the psychiatrist. Adam can read it off of her facial expression. She isn’t pleased with the developments. She doesn’t book the appointment right away, but she does take Adam aside when they get home. 

 

“Is this because of your father?” There’s something in the back of his mind that says, “ _yes, it is my father’s fault. If only he’d pay more attention to all of his children. Same with all the other God-“_ but that’s where the thought ends. He suddenly cant remember where the line was going. He feels guilty for this. He feels guilty for thinking that, like he knew something he shouldn’t. He knew too much and his personalty was absolutely disgusting for that. 

 

His mother is still waiting for a response. Adam shakes his head. He can see that she clearly doesn’t believe him. She sighs in reassignment and says she’ll book the appointment. It’s a few days later, that she gets a call back from the psychiatrist, informing her of the payment plan. It would certainly make a dent in their savings, but anything for her beloved only son. 

 

The payment she goes with that has the most value is the five appointment agreement. She works extra shifts at the hospital, so late that she barely gets back home in time to serve Adam breakfast and then collapse in exhaustion on her bed, to sleep in the seven hour time period she gets before her next shift begins. 

 

The day of the appointment arrives, and she cant help but feel delighted, now that the countless days of taking too many shifts where now over. She could finally relax and work reasonable hours, and they could finally figure out what was troubling Adam. 

 

The first ten minutes of the appointment she’s allowed in the room, when Adam’s asked the most basic of questions. Then she’s asked to leave the room, if Adam would be comfortable with that. Adam reluctantly lets go of her hand, and she smiles encouragingly at him while she leaves the room. 

 

Now alone with the psychiatrist, he’s asked more specific questions, and he goes through a few complaints from various teachers he’s had in the past. The doctor takes in the fact that due to this… problem Adam’s had to transfer school’s three times in the past four years. 

 

At the end of the session, he re-invites Adam’s mother into the room. He gently explains that there’s high evidence that Adam has both Dyslexia and ADHD. It’s a late diagnosis with Adam being already twelve, but it’s still a diagnosis. 

 

He’s prescribed Adderall XR to help satiate the symptoms, which is an extra $184 a month. Adam’s mother signs up for government single-parent benefits. She only requests enough money to pay for the medicine, and since the grant requested is so little compared to others, it’s accepted almost a week later by the local council. 

 

There aren’t any developments with the medicine, so he stops using them altogether. They figure it will just be something he’s going to have to live with.

 

The next time Adam’s father makes his occasional appearance in his life to take him to a baseball game, his mother breaks the news. His father’s - John - face stays neutral, but in his eyes they radiate disappointment. He barks out something along the lines of ‘not wanting a retard for a son’ then drives off. 

 

Adam’s just young, and he knows how he probably should react. If he were anybody else he would’ve run off into his room and cried into the pillows of his bed, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t shed a tear. There’s no grief in him, except for a hollow feeling that tells him that he’s absolutely gotten used to father figures disappointing him. Then, the same hollow feeling reprimands him for even expecting any different.   
  
It’s not like others have described. There’s no voice in his head telling him all this, just a presence that sends him emotions or feelings that he can describe perfectly. He knows what they all mean, but there isn’t any words exchanged with this presence, and he can’t help but wonder what this dark presence is.

 

His father grows exceptionally distant, but keeps coming back. On his birthdays, John took him to ball games, although they were hollow and Adam didn’t enjoy it, they pretended for the sake of a semblance of a family. His mother grows exceptionally close with him, whenever she can, even if its just as simple as making him breakfast, she’ll do it. 

 

Eventually, there is no ‘father’ in the equation, it’s never even considered again. John may be present occasionally, but there isn’t any real depth to it. Adam often feels like he’s talking to a mask, a mask which disappears months at a time. So it’s just him, and his mother. Adam knows that there never will be a father. At worst, it’ll be just him, alone, and at best, it’ll be him and his mother. 

 

One day, his father just stops visiting.

 

His reading skills improve drastically in the few coming years, but it still gives him headaches while doing it. 

 

A day comes during high school, where he finds two subject that he absolutely breezes through. Physical education and history of Ancient Greece. Given, they both are non compulsory subjects, he finds that Greek is surprisingly easy to learn. Adam decides to keep it a secret from his mother, until its time for his report card to come home, and she sees a relatively good score rather than the usual D.

 

There isn’t a single thing in physical education that he suffers in, except for swimming. He holds the school record in everything, except swimming. Adam gets invited to every inter-school competition, winning the award for his school district. 

 

Once he’s made an article in the national newspaper, his mother beams, extremely proudly as well. The article mentions him as a star athlete with lots of potential for olympic events, and says nothing about his ADHD, dyslexia, or the apparent terrible grades he gets. 

 

Well, to be fair, his grades are improving, some subjects are even on a C, but the majority where a D. 

 

He’s relieved he has at least some talent, and hope for a career after school that wasn’t a cleaner or store clerk of some kind. It’s one day at a track event when he see’s him. In the corner of a large crowd on the bleaches, there stands John Winchester. Adam freezes, and looks back to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things.

 

Nope, he wasn’t seeing things, John was actually there. His face was easy to just look over before, but now that Adam’s spotted him directly, he can’t un-see the face. He tries to ignore John, who seems content with staring at him directly in the eyes, and tries to focus on the race. 

 

A small crowd of young women swoon at him from the bleachers as well. Adam rolls his eyes. He knew that he defiantly wasn’t ugly, and with all this practise for the various sport teams he was on, he certainly was pretty well toned and tanned. 

 

The cap gun fires, and everybody on the staggered track immediately take off. Once again, he wins first place and the announcer says his name through the large speaker. It’s the fourth track event in a row that he’s won, and this was the race competing for the position as state champion. 

 

The portion of the crowd that came to represent for his school burst into a ear numbing cheer. Adam can’t help but smile, and feel accomplished. His happiness dulls down when he remembers, this is one of his greatest accomplishments, and his mother was too busy working to support their small family to be there. 

 

Some of his closest friends notice this, and try to get him to cheer back up again. Adam chuckles nervously and says he’s going to the locker room to hit the showers and change back into casual clothing. 

 

Once in the locker room, he does as he says, although after he’s all dressed, John Winchester walks in. There’s a deafening silence between each other, when John decides to break it. 

 

“I’m… sorry for calling you retarded when you were ten. I didn’t know you would grow up to be like this… and honestly I’m proud.” Adam takes it in, but doesn’t accept the apology at all. He’s learned not to take bull like this anymore, and can see how shallow the motivation behind the apology really was. 

 

John didn’t think at all to come apologise to him back then, but now that Adam’s finally becoming successful in something, and actually amounting to something, he decides to waltz back into his life? No. That wasn’t how it worked. He wasn’t going to do that. John could’ve done anything, there wasn’t anything stopping him.

 

“I was twelve, not ten.” John ignores his response, and continues trying to reconcile. 

 

“How do you feel about me taking you on a hunt?” Adam freezes. No. Absolutely not. The very thought of killing an animal or something for a game disgusted him. Adam wasn’t mean or vegetarian by any means, but he didn’t like the sound of cruelty felt by his own hand purely for the purpose of pleasure.

 

Adam already knew that he had enough of unnecessary killing and violence in his life, despite never being involved with any. Adam swings the gym back with his clothes in it over his shoulder. 

 

“You weren’t there for me then, so you don’t have a right to be here for me now.” It’s overly cliche, but feels exactly right for the moment. No other words are exchanged between them, and Adam walks out of the locker room, shaking up a protein shake on his way out. 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He’s not panicked, really he isn’t. He’s just curious. Adam had had many dreams in the past before, but never like this. his dreams where never this… _real_ or structured. Usually they made no sense, and you never thought anything was off until you woke up and noticed that reality just wasn’t like that.

 

_This time everything was average, mundane but most importantly, absolutely tranquil. There wasn’t any drama, just a sweet scene with him and two girls by his side. It wasn’t sexual or romantic at all, just sweet and platonic. They were sitting at a wharf, overlooking the ocean. The girl to his right, Thalia - his mind tells him, grumbles something about it being pathetic that none of them could dare swim, incase they upset their uncle._

 

_The view is beautiful, looking off of the wharf. He- the dream version of Adam - puts his hand down the back pocket of his jeans. Forty dollars. Just enough for a motel room with two beds. In the dream, the three of them are all around the ages seven to eleven. The girl to his left, Annabeth, says she’s getting cold out._

 

_He nods and signals for them all to walk down to a hostel, situated in a shady part of the lower New York suburbs. Nobody asks why the three of them, children so young, are travelling alone. They mind their own business as long as the due payment is paid._

 

_Something tells him that the money that his dream self had, wasn’t honest money, probably stolen from somebody. The hostel provides them a four bed room - two bunks crammed next to each other so it looked like a queen bunk bed - for the cost of twenty dollars a night._

 

_Thalia and Annabeth sleep comfortably on the bottom, and Luke - the name of his dream self - takes one of the top bunks._

 

_“Luke?” one of the girls on the bottom bunk asks. He rolls over to hang his head over the side of the top bunk to show he’s listening. They’re both staring directly into his eyes, in a deadpan expression. “_ **_Why did you do it?”_ ** _Their voice’s echo, as if multiple other voices are also leaving their mouth, all asking the same question._

 

_At first, he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, then it hits him. Adam doesn’t know, but his counterpart in the dream knows exactly what they’re accusing him of. A deep shame hollows a cavity in his stomach._

 

He wakes up. Adam isn’t sweaty or screaming like somebody would when they woke up from a pretty intense nightmare, but he notices a tear leaking out of one eye. His nose is all blocked up, and he quickly wipes all traces of tears off his face. Checking the time, Adam notices that he’s slept in an hour, and it would be far too late to even think about going to track practise that morning.

 

He gathers up his things, and gets dressed to go to school. Looking in the mirror, he notices that he looks terrible, dark rings around his eyes and hair matted. Combing through the mess hurts him, but it’s necessary if he wants to get rid of that mess quickly.

 

He still looks tired, but not terrible anymore. Adam stumbles into the kitchen, where his mum is near the stove boiling an egg. She looks up at him.

 

“Why aren’t you out already? You’ll miss your bus.” Adam nods, half listening, half not. His mother furrows her eyebrows, and goes to feel his forehead. It’s warm, but not warm enough to warrant staying home.

 

“Are you feeling well?” Maybe he’s got a headache, and they ran out of Paracetamol. It’s an expensive they cant afford to have unless they absolutely needed it. So usually in the Milligan household, headaches were treated with a glass of cold water and a nap. If that didn’t work, then they had to buy Paracetamol.

 

Adam shakes his head, he isn’t feeling too well. Today’s his mother’s day off, so if he stayed home he wouldn’t be lonely. He thinks back on the dream he’s had, and the fact that he still remembers the dream. The name they called him, Luke, was extremely familiar.

 

The name was comfortable on his tongue, and the foreign name felt natural. Now that he had realised that he was alternatively called Luke in a dream, every time somebody called him Adam it took him a moment to realise, that yes, that was him.

 

He wonders why the name Luke is so familiar to him, after all, he had only heard it in his dreams now.

 

“Hey, mum?” He asks, when she’s preparing lunch. She looks up from her pot.

“Yes?”

“Does the name Luke mean anything to you?” She considers the question for a moment, trying to think if she knows anybody by the name of Luke.

 

“Well, when you were born I was about to name you Luke. You just looked like a Luke, but then I remember my father, Adam, had died a week prior. You were about to be a Luke.”

 

Adam thinks for a while. Either it was a coincidence or he was having some kind of prophetic dreams. Adam shook his head, there were more important things to be worrying about. Adam takes out his pre-calculus homework, and tries to make sense of it.

 

Although he knew English was his first language, he spoke and understood Greek far better than he ever would English. After his discovery of his excellent understanding of the Greek language five months ago, he’s dived into the subject, understanding every nook and cranny of the language, even down to nailing the accent.

 

He spoke it like a native, and honestly his Greek teacher was shocked. She didn’t expect this kid, who she had been told by other teachers was impossible to teach, take to the subject so well. In the exams, there was a section on labelling the Greek Gods family tree.

 

He aced it from the Titans to the most minor of Demi-gods. It was the first Academic class that he achieved an A in, and the first academic class that he beat all the other students in the grade.

 

—

 

He doesn’t get another dream like that for a few months, and he doesn’t mind the peace from the torment inside his mind. He doesn’t know why the dreams make him squirm guiltily and uncomfortably, because as far as he was aware, he had never done anything to feel immensely guilty about.

 

His father has been making his sparse appearances more regular than they ever were. Adam’s fifteenth birthday was rapidly approaching, and he was starting to develop reckless-like characteristics. He knew it would break his mother’s heart if she ever found out, but he’d developed a habit of thieving things. Just random pickpocketing was incredibly easy for him, it was like second nature.

 

Walking along the street, it was almost laughable how easy he picks business cards and other random things that would give the owner minor inconveniences. He never stole money. He knew how much money could mean to some people, and that there were a lot of people who needed every dollar they earned. Perfecting his skills where simple, and within a few weeks he was decided to get bolder.

 

Instead of stealing from a person, he’s still from an office, random papers that wouldn’t mean anything in the long run except to make somebody’s day harder. Sneaking around was like second nature. He was a natural.

 

One day at school, there was an Ancient Greek incursion team that arrived at the school to help in their course on Greece and its history. There was a segment where they asked for volunteers to come up on to the stage to help in their reenactment of a roman fight. Luke, obviously, was among one of the first to go up, with his ADHD just begging him to do anything at all.

 

Backstage, he and another kid were told that this fight would be completely improvised on their part and that they should just try to replicate any moves they had seen in various pop culture movies about ancient Greek fights.

 

Adam finally noticed the other child there, George, who had bragged about being taught in the art of fencing ever since he could walk. They suited up in selected Spartan and Athenian armour pieces, with Adam being Spartan and George being Athenian.

 

One of the instructors had told him the the amour were just replicas, but they’d still be uncomfortable. There was clear discomfort on George’s facial expression and awkward stance. Adam wore the Armour like a second skin, comfortably fitting in, and the scratchiness of the shoulder pieces didn’t bother him at all.

 

The sword they’re both given is an authentic looking one, except the sharp edges of the blade have been covered with a rubber guard. It still looks like it could hurt though, if they swung hard enough at each other. Well, anything swung hard enough could hurt you, so it wasn’t the best comparison.

 

They’re told that whoever wins the first duel gets to fight the on hand swordsman they have. Adam nods, not really convinced that he could win against George. George isn’t as well built as Adam, but he does have a few lean muscles that looks like he would be nimble and quick.

 

He gives a quick verbal rundown of the rules, with Adam not really paying attention. He’s too excited. He’d never been able to fight with a sword before, and now that he had gotten the chance, he wasn’t going to blow it.

 

The instructor beams at their nod, and encourages them to go out to the stage to show the other students who are watching, their demonstration/reenactment of how a fight might have gone back then in the days of the Peloponnesian war. The lights brighten and a spotlight is shone towards the centre of the stage. A small bell rings, which signals both himself and George to begin.

 

When George unsheathes his sword, an instinct takes control of Adam, and before he knows what he’s doing, he takes a stance, tightening his grip around the sword, and loosening his hand on his shield. George arrogantly drops his shield to the side, probably thinking that he wouldn’t need one against Adam.

 

Adam doesn’t have such arrogance, but he takes a confident pace to the left, almost about to circle George. George takes first move, trying to strike down at an open position by Adam’s neck, to which Adam instinctively brings up his sword to parry, twist his hold on the sword so it forces George’s hold to stumble.

 

Adam brings up the shield to protect his vital organs. When it’s obvious that George is waiting for Adam’s next move to retaliate. Adam does a move that catches George off guard, doing a classic Spartan kick, like one in the movie 300. The move is executed perfectly, and George is thrown across the stage floor.

 

The audience is taken aback. George scrambles across the stage floor to grab the shield he had so carelessly let go before, as Adam begins to up his attacks, intensely. Each blow harder than the last, and Adam didn’t even seem to tire, even after George had been on laying on his back, not being able to retaliate, too busy warding off the fast attacks to even attempt to find an opening within the rapid attacks.

 

Adam finally stops when the instructor yells that he is the victor of the sparing match. Adam feels accomplished. The instructor barely manages a sentence when gushing on about how skilled Adam was with every blow. He had told them he was a rookie and never picked up a sword in his life, but there was some kind of instinct in him that knew exactly how swordsmanship worked. The instructor told him that he fought as if he had been fighting his whole life.

 

Almost as if he really was a Spartan hero from the Peloponnesian war itself, or maybe one of the heroes from the myths. Like Perseus, the son of Zeus.

 


End file.
